


Maraschino Kisses

by orphan_account



Category: Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, literally just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:28:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23250226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Victor pronounces something wrong, and ends up embarrassing himself in the club.  How else to better himself than getting drunk and practicing on Roman's statue?not beta read.
Relationships: Roman Sionis/Victor Zsasz
Comments: 7
Kudos: 129





	Maraschino Kisses

The burn of whatever expensive liquor that Roman kept in the penthouse was exactly what Victor Zsasz was in need of, allowing the warmth to set in his mouth for a moment before he swallowed it back, closing his eyes to relish the temporary sting as it made its way down his throat. This burn was far better than the embarrassment he’d faced earlier, and he could feel his face heating up once more, the redness slowly building its way up from his neck and creeping up to his face. It wasn’t a secret that Victor hadn’t gotten far in his education. At the age of sixteen, he’d left high school; left behind the books, the students, left it all in the dust. Two years later, he’d found himself working for one of the top mafia families in Gotham, and he never looked back. Street smart was okay with him, he didn’t need to fucking know anything outside of basic math and English, not in his field of work. That was back then, though. And, here he was, at the age of forty, sprawled out on the floor in Roman’s dining room, a half-empty glass in one hand, and the other clutching a goddamned dictionary. 

It’d been a slow night at the club, that’s how it usually was in the middle of the week, and he was in his usual spot, lurking behind Roman, eyes observing for anything and everything out of place. His attention was directed back to the crime lord when a gloved hand ( momentarily ) caught onto his own. “Yeah, boss?” Dark eyes flickered down to their hands ( ignoring the flutter in his chest ) before locking with those pretty blue eyes. “Fetch me a drink, will you, Mr. Zsasz?” It was posed as a question, but Victor knew better than that. “Of course. Something fruity? With one of those maraceeno cherries you like?” 

A shrill ( obnoxious ) laugh echoed throughout his ears, and his expression faltered slightly. “It’s pronounced maraschino! Roman, do you just hire anyone?” And the color was flooding his cheeks, and he’s removing his hand from Roman’s, returning it to his side. “I’ll grab your drink, Mr. Sionis.” He didn’t wait around to see how Roman’s expression shifted, how a gloved finger motioned to one of the bouncers and the young man was led out the back. The music would cover the screams. No one was allowed to mock Roman Sionis or anything that belonged to him, and Victor was absolutely included in his possessions, and perhaps was his favorite item. Victor fixed the drink with practiced ease, and set it down on the coaster in front of his boss. No eye contact was made, and he didn’t take note of the absence, and the fear from certain guests who’d taken note of the little scene. The night had passed by after that, and once Roman was in bed. . .-it all went to shit. 

The embarrassment was back again, flooding throughout his senses, the feeling that he’d somehow let Roman down, and, Jesus Christ, that was one of the worst feelings that he ( could ) feel. Emotions weren't something he was successful with, unless it was being angry or horny, and Roman brought out something new in his, something that he couldn't explain. Well, he wasn't dumb, he knew what he felt, he didn't know how to process it. Roman was his ( home ), gave him a fucking purpose in this shitty life, and he’d embarrassed him. Victor Zsasz was an embarrassment. “Hey.” His voice was slurred, and he made his way back onto his feet, glazed eyes locking with those of Roman’s statue. The dictionary fell to the floor with a loud ‘bang’, and he’s making his way over to said statue with one purpose in mind. His arm tangles around the shoulders of the hard rock, and he's letting out a hum. This is what his life had come to. “Boss, you want another drink? With a maracheeno. . .-No. With a ( marachino )? Fucking hell. I’m sorry.” And he was, he was so ridiculously apologetic, so lost in his own drunken gaze that he hadn’t noticed the footsteps creeping behind him minutes earlier, didn’t take note of the amused blue eyes watching him with a certain fondness that was only reserved for one Victor Zsasz.

That is, he didn’t notice until an arm was looping around his waist, a soft chuckle falling past Roman’s lips. “Do you often get drunk and pretend the statue is really me?” If Victor could crawl in a hole and die, he would happily accept such fate, instead he chose to lower his head, hiding his flushed face. “It’s pronounced ‘maraschino’, darling, but you were very close.” There’s a gentle kiss being pressed to Victor’s neck, and it’s ridiculous how easily he finds himself relaxing into that familiar touch. “I’m sorry if I-”, and his words are cut off by Roman’s lips, a chaste peck, but enough to silence him. 

“One more apology, and I'm going to have to cut out that tongue of yours." He's only half-kidding. "You know I could never be embarrassed by you. I handled that fucking moron earlier, you just didn’t see it.” Another kiss, this time longer, this time causing Victor’s toes to curl up, and a hand to tangle it’s way in Roman’s hair. It was moments like this that allowed Victor a bit of clarity, that allowed his anger to slip away from him, tender embraces where no one else could see them. It was enough for Victor to accept the fact that Roman was indeed not angry at him ( especially considering the fact that something very hard was pressing against him during their embrace). “Let’s go to bed, ‘kay? I have a few ideas on how we can work on your pronunciation.” The feral grin was evident on those lips, and Victor allowed himself to be led off towards their bedroom without any complaints.

**Author's Note:**

> this is literally just crack, i am so sorry for putting you through this.


End file.
